


Rise Up, Moonchild

by Sashataakheru



Series: Spook Me fics [5]
Category: The Move RPF
Genre: Abuse, Amnesia, Animal Transformations, Community: spook_me, Denial, Depression, Drug Use, Hallucinations, Imprisonment, Kidnapping, Lost Memories, M/M, Mania, Panic Attacks, Paranoia, Psychosis, Shapeshifting, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, drug overdoses, mutant-phobia, super powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 06:29:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5081212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sashataakheru/pseuds/Sashataakheru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Realising his stoned out hallucinations about changing shape, getting drunk off moonlight, and creating sparkling magical leaves are actually real is definitely the maddest thing that Ace has ever had to deal with, and the danger he now faces as one of the mutants becomes all too real.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rise Up, Moonchild

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Spook Me 2015. Inspired by [this image prompt](http://s879.photobucket.com/user/spook_me/media/Spook%20Me%202015/dde6017963c9d7dde6f2c71162c1f761_zpsvsa7l9ot.jpg.html), and with the creature prompt, shapeshifter. 
> 
> This is based in [a mutant Pokémon superpowers AU](https://archiveofourown.org/series/9396) I wrote over the course of a few years ago that I began rewriting last NaNo. The rewritten fic isn't quite done, but this explores Ace's discovery of his powers as things that are actually real, and not just a symptom of too much acid. Set 1967.
> 
> See end of fic for specific super power typings and abilities.

i.  
"Hey Trev, c'n you see the pretty leaves? I made some pretty leaves," Ace giggled, his fingers waving in front of his face.

Trevor seemed to blink, and once he saw them, he grinned and tried to touch them. "How'd you make'm so pretty? Like a broken rainbow."

Ace curled a hand around a couple, and felt them press into his skin. Trevor leaned close; from his soft breath, as if from his palm, came a whirlwind of colour. Then they vanished into a thousand sparkling pieces of dust. Ace gazed at them, amazed. 

"Like fairy dust, yeah," he murmured. 

ii.  
He always felt more energised at night. He'd always assumed it was just because he was up til 2am, and slept until noon. But there were moments where it felt indescribably different. Standing outside, having a smoke, waiting for the band to go on, the swelling moon rising high in the sky, just the light touching his skin felt like a shot of acid. It went straight to his brain; he felt giddily drunk, but full of energy. 

He leant against the van, smile askew, and he could've sworn his skin was glowing with white light. He could see it shining, glistening with power, and it warmed him against the cool night air. Maybe it was magic. Maybe it was madness. But maybe it was just really good acid. 

He closed his eyes, drank it all in, loving the way it made him feel safe. He felt his body melting into the van behind him until they weren't separate anymore. Where he went then, he didn't know. The sound of Trevor's voice calling him back to the stage shattered the illusion, and pinpricks of light danced before him as he found himself standing right where he'd been before, all alone.

iii.  
The morning after was torturous. He woke, feeling like death. Staring straight ahead, he didn't move for an hour, his body refusing to move. He still wasn't really used to how awfully sick he tended to feel after the full moon. His limbs felt like lead, and his head hammered by tiny elves. Nothing wanted to function. 

He became aware of Trevor coming for him at some point. The curtains were thrust aside, and he squeezed his eyes shut as Trevor hauled him out of bed. Pain exploded in his head, and as Trevor went to help him up, he lashed out at him, unaware he'd sent a blast of razor-sharp leaves at his face. Trevor's cries were lost to him, and he crawled back into bed, burying himself under the duvet.

His sanctuary didn't last long. A gust of wind revealed him, and Trevor hauled him to his feet, glaring at him angrily. Ace managed a few confused syllables. 

"We're late. Again. When did you learn to throw leaves about anyway? You nearly took my bloody eye out!" Trevor said, pulling him towards the dresser.

Ace was sat down. He didn't move as Trevor fussed over him. Ace hadn't really heard him. His mind was elsewhere. 

"Oi, you're doing it again. Quit it, will you?" Trevor said.

Ace turned to look at him, confused. "I - I don't. What - I don't."

Trevor grasped his hand and lifted it so he could see it. Ace saw leaves. Lifeless leaves just sitting on his own palm. They felt real enough, but how they'd got there, he didn't know. But then, he hadn't really been paying attention. Maybe Trev was just messing with him. 

"Stop fucking with me, Trev. I don't need this right now." 

The leaves fell to the floor, glistening, forgotten.

iv.  
"I can really do that, y'know. Make grass tornadoes," Trevor said, convinced of his own words. 

"Yeah, sure you can." Ace scoffed at him, and rolled his eyes, as they walked through the park together. 

The growing darkness made him feel safe, for once, as he watched Trevor sit down on the grass and close his eyes. He felt the wind pick up, and then, leaves swirling all around him in a small funnel. He brought his coat close around him, not wanting to be cold. 

"There they are! Mutants! Get 'em!" 

Ace turned to see what the trouble was just as Trevor got to his feet and grabbed his hand tight. A group of angry lads were running towards them, but that was all he could see before Trevor pulled him back, running away from them. 

Panic set in. Ace didn't know why. It overwhelmed him, and he tripped, and he watched Trevor run away from him, too scared to come back for him. The thudding footsteps grew close, and Ace wished very, very hard that he was invisible. 

He wasn't really sure what happened. He felt his body disappear, but that might've been the pain, or possibly the panic clutching at his chest. He watched, amazed, as the lads rushed passed him, as if they didn't even know he was there, and ran off into the distance, leaving him behind. 

How long he lay there for, he didn't know. Trevor didn't return. By the time he'd calmed down, and his body had stopped being frozen from panic, he found his limbs able to move. He got to his feet, dusting himself down. 

"Where'd Trev get to then? I hope they didn't hurt him," Ace murmured. 

Once he was sure he wasn't injured, he headed off in the direction he'd seen Trevor go, hoping he might find him. Park turned into woods, and ever-encroaching darkness. But then the moon shone through, and the fading crescent helped him light the way as he kept searching. 

But he found nothing. Giving up, he decided to go home, wherever that was. The woods led to a road, and then another. Then he knew where he was. Another twenty minutes, and he was home. Trevor was waiting for him on the porch, smoking. He seemed fine, but it was hard to tell. 

"Alright?" Trevor said, getting to his feet.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm - alright."

v.  
"Why'd they call us mutants?" Ace asked later, as they tried to sleep.

"Don't you know? Haven't you ever heard of people with weird superpowers? Like the way superheroes can fly an' all?" Trevor said.

Ace shrugged against the mattress. "I thought that was just a myth. The sort of stuff the tabloids love, even though it's not true."

"It's true, alright. I've been able to fly since I was a kid. The leaf tornadoes turned up a little later. I reckon you've got some powers, too. You keep making those daft colourful leaves, even if you're not aware of how you're doing it." 

"Nah, it ain't superpowers. It's just - like being stoned. It's just the acid. It's not real," Ace said.

Trevor turned on the bedside lamp and sat up. Ace watched as he summoned another leaf tornado. It alarmed him. He could feel the wind, and see the leaves blowing about, but he wasn't high. He'd taken nothing for hours. But there it was, a small tornado of leaves on the bed, as real as they were. 

Ace backed off. "What the hell are you doing? You've gone daft."

With a little breath, Trevor made the tornado dissipate. Ace felt the leaves move past him, and land on the bed around him. He picked one up, but he wasn't convinced it was real. 

"It's real, alright. And you can do it, too. I've seen your colourful leaves. You've got your own powers, and you'd better be careful with them, or you'll get in trouble again like we did tonight," Trevor said.

"Is that why I sometimes feel like I turn invisible? Like, I can sometimes blend in with things if I'm standing near them. And moonlight makes me go daft. Like, it makes me feel drunk. Is that what those superpowers can do? Or am I just going daft? What sort of use are they?" Ace said.

"I dunno, I think I've heard of invisibility before, but not the moonlight one. But maybe. The leaves are definitely real, though. I've seen those before," Trevor said.

Ace sat there, considering his words. He stared at the palms of his hands, and thought about the magical leaves he sort of remembered. His palms grew hot, and they began to tingle. And before he could realise what he'd done, coloured leaves appeared and began dancing in the air in front of him. 

"I didn't just do that. No way did I just do that. What the hell is wrong with me?" Ace said, shocked. 

"Nothing's wrong with you. I mean, yeah, it's not normal, but you're not dying or stoned or anything. It's real. Go on, man. Fling 'em at me, and see if you can turn 'em into a weapon," Trevor dared. 

"But won't I hurt you? I don't want to hurt you," Ace said.

"I'll blast 'em away with my wind. It'll be fine," Trevor said.

"Alright, but don't blame me if I take yer eye out," Ace said. 

vi.  
The next few weeks passed by in confusion. Now that he was aware of what he could do, and what Trevor could do, he noticed it everywhere in everyone else. Hypervigilance didn't suit him, but his paranoid mind clung to it, seeing danger everywhere. 

Nothing was fun anymore. Acid wasn't fun, magical leaves weren't fun, the band wasn't fun. As his powers strengthened, he had to fight hard to stop them randomly appearing, particularly if he was stressed, which he was most of the time. 

After one particularly bad costume party, panic had set in, and he'd fled before anyone could stop him. All he remembered of that moment was a desire to fly, and before he could really understand what had happened, his body was shrinking, and changing shape, and he was soaring into the sky, suddenly aware he was definitely not human.

It did not stop his panic. He flew until he was exhausted, where upon he fell out of the sky and landed hard in a bush. Dazed, he didn't have the capacity to understand what had happened to him, except that he'd turned into a bird of some form or another. His mind could not focus on anything. His hearing was far too intense, and his vision was distorted and strange. Nothing made sense, and he had no idea where he was. His heart was beating so hard he was afraid it would burst out of his chest. 

Language escaped him. Birdsong was meaningless. Lying on his back, he was starving, and exhausted, and had no idea where he might even find food if he had the energy to look for it. The thought of food sent a wave of dizziness through his body, and he blacked out. 

A biting pain through his stomach brought a sudden jerk into consciousness, and all he could see was something big and furry grasping him in its teeth. He panicked again, and it seemed to startle his attacker. Dropped to the ground, he ran, his wings flapping madly as he attempted to get away from the animal. He ran into a tree, unable to see it in the darkness. The sudden pain shocked him into unconsciousness once more.

The next thing he was aware of was being in a room, and feeling his body aching in many different places. His stomach felt it had been sliced apart, and his head felt groggy and uncertain. No memories suggested how any of this had happened, but at least he still seemed to be human. 

"Oh, god, you're a shapeshifter. Ace, you're a shapeshifter! You just turned into a bird and flew away! Man, it was so awesome! I didn't know you could do that!" 

Trevor's voice pierced his consciousness, and he lifted his head to see him sitting beside him, unable to read his expression. Nothing he said made any sense.

"Where the fuck did you get that acid? What the fuck happened to me?" Ace said.

"It wasn't acid, man. It was those fucking powers of yours. Man, I mean, I saw you panic, and you just fled that thing. I followed you, and I saw you turn into a bird and fly off. Man! I didn't know you could do that! You're a shapeshifter! How the fuck did you do that?" Trevor said.

"I-I don't remember? I can't remember anything. God, everything hurts, though. I'm not dying, am I?" 

"No, you're fine. Least, I think you're fine. You weren't bleeding or anything, and all your limbs seem to work fine, so?" 

Trevor didn't sound as convincing as Ace needed.

vii.  
Accepting that he was a shapeshifter was not easy. His paranoid mind still believed Trevor was lying, and it was just the acid. It was always the acid, right? He spent hours walking the streets alone at night, long after the gigs were done, just to clear his head. It never helped, of course, but he couldn't sleep, so. 

He went over what happened in his head so many times, letting the chill of 2am reveal the truth. It never really changed, except that sometimes, it made more sense than usual. He could think about his fingers turning into feathers, and watch it happen. He could try to recreate the emotion that had led to the transformation, in the hopes that it might reveal whether he was imagining it or not. He remembered the sensation of flying, the pain of his body transforming, how his vision changed, how he was attacked- 

He always stopped by the canal when he got to the attack. He could make no sense of it. All he ever remembered was the dark fur, and the sharp teeth, and the dread feeling that he was about to die. He always expected to see bite marks on his skin, but there was nothing there. He just couldn't shake the thought that it had just been a bad trip. It was just the acid. None of it had been real.

He heard every sound. The emptiness of the world echoed all around him, and every sound slammed against his eardrums. Even the crunch of his foot against wet pavement screeched out to him, and grated against his skin. The drunkenness from the moonlight didn't help. There were nights where he walked in a daze, lost in his own mind. He saw demons everywhere, and sometimes, he felt the breath of feathers on the back of his neck, and it made him shiver. 

There was a bridge, isolated and hidden. He tried so many times to fly from it, to find the power in himself to transform, but it never happened. Sometimes, the hair on his arms turned into wisps of feathery down, but he wasn't sure that wasn't just the acid, screwing with his mind. 

He sat on the wooden boards, watching the water flowing around and beneath him. He practiced throwing his colourful leaves around, but it was nearly the dark moon, and his energy was seriously drained. The darkness matched his mood. If he just fell in the water, let it take him away, perhaps it might make things stop. He could feel the icy chill of it on his skin, and felt he was freezing into ice. He didn't notice his skin changing until he could no longer move. 

He had turned a maudlin shade of blue, and his limbs were frozen solid. He hadn't turned transparent like water, but instead looked like a cold, dead, human. Icy water ran through his veins, and it shocked his heart. He found it difficult to breathe. He didn't look panicked, but inside, he was terrified. He was going to kill himself because he thought he was literally turning into ice. How the hell could be get out of this? Did he even want to? 

He tried to think about fire, about hot things that might defrost him, but it was a cold night, and it didn't work. The sound of approaching footsteps and loud voices crashed through the panic. He'd never met anyone on his late-night walks. But now some men were coming, and he had literally frozen himself to the spot. 

He couldn't think. Everything told him to flee, but he couldn't move. 

"Fire, fire, fire, fire," he whispered, hoping it might conjure something. Anything. 

Nothing happened. They came closer. Either they would ignore him, or they would kill him. He had accepted his fate. Their laughter echoed around him, and he could do nothing as they stepped onto the bridge, and finally caught sight of him. 

He closed his eyes. "Sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep."

His heart slowed. His breathing slowed. He felt the icy water's victory as what little heat left in him was conquered. All that was left was silence, and darkness, and unconsciousness. 

viii.  
Consciousness fought a long road to victory. He wasn't sure he was still alive. Nothing wanted to move. All he was aware of was that he was. Anything more complex than that was beyond him. 

There were voices. They chattered away, incomprehensible. He had no sight; either he was blind, or his eyes would not open. His body felt very strange. His breathing was shallow, his heart calm. 

Sudden movement shocked him awake, and he found himself crashing into something hard, accompanied by the sound of laughter. His eyes finally open, the strange vision was back. He saw bars in front of his face. Saw how different the world looked. Dread pooled in his stomach, as he realised what must have happened. He was sparrow again, and he had been caged. He tried to cry out, but he had no voice left. 

A sudden burst of bright fire made the metal bars glow, and his heart froze. Perhaps now, he would die.

-

He awoke, groggy. He was lying on something, but he didn't think he was sparrow anymore. As he tried to move, he discovered one of his ankles had been chained up, preventing him from escaping. Who had captured him, he didn't know, but this time, his panic brought on the pangs of transformation that forced the memories back into his conscious mind. He had little time to comprehend it before he was sparrow again. All his instincts told him to flee, and that's what he did. 

Getting as far away as possible was all he thought about. He didn't know where he was, or where he was going. Just that he was flying, and it was away from them, whoever they had been. 

He didn't hear his pursuers until he felt the heat of the flames dash past him, missing him by inches. He didn't dare look back to see who it was. He kept flying, trying to find somewhere to hide. 

Nowhere felt safe. He flew over streets and parks, buildings and towers, and nowhere felt safe. He was growing tired. He could hear his pursuers, and knew he wouldn't outrun them. He'd fall from the sky again, come crashing down to the ground, and maybe he'd die this time. Perhaps it would be nice for it to all be over. At least it would be quick. Sparrow's body was fragile. It would break very easily if he fell from this height. 

Something struck him hard, piercing his wings. The decision was taken out of his hands.

-

He was lying somewhere warm and soft. That much he was aware of. Whether he was still a prisoner, he didn't know. Everything ached. He slept.

-

Fever held him in a vice grip. It felt like fever, at any rate. It was that, or some really strong acid. The room glowed bright, he felt hot and cold, he saw monsters everywhere, and the doorknobs all laughed at him while the rug on the floor screamed every time he stepped on it. Sometimes, he felt wings stretching out behind him; the only sound he made was birdsong. 

Everything closed in on him. He curled into the corner, willing himself to disappear into the walls. It was too loud. Too bright. Too silent. Too warm. Too cold. He felt he'd been gutted, and the pain pierced his mind. The wound bled constantly, never willing itself to heal. At least if he bled to death, it would be an end. 

-

"How long's it been now? Three days? Do you think he'll come out of it soon?" 

"Hard to say. Are you sure we should've kept him here? I think he needs a doctor."

"No doctor's going to deal with him properly, not with his powers. You know how hard it is for us to get treatment when we get injured. They'll think he's gone daft and lock him up, and I ain't willing to put him through that."

"But he has gone daft. Look at him. You saw how he was when we brought him back here. You know he's disturbed. What else can we do for him here?"

"You'd have taken him in when we found him if you thought it would help. That's your answer. You don't trust them to make him better, same as me."

"So we just wait, then? You know we can't cover for him forever. If he can't play, he's out. You know Secunda won't keep him around if he can't play."

"I know, I know." A resigned sigh. "Have the feathers gone, at least?"

"I think they disappeared yesterday, but it's not like I've stripped him to check. Any time I go near him, he throws things at me. Says I'm screaming in his head. I'm willing to leave him alone if that's what he wants."

ix.  
He found he always had to have the window open, no matter how cold it was. The feeling of air against his skin comforted him. Some nights, he would gaze up at the sky, and try to remember what had happened. 

Someone came in. A man. He was sure he recognised him from somewhere. He wasn't afraid of him, but his name escaped him. But all he did was sit beside him, sharing cigarettes, as they both stared out the window. 

"I was really worried about you, y'know, when Charlie said you'd been in trouble. You went missing, and I didn't know where you were. You still don't remember what happened to you, then?" 

He shrugged. "Might be in there somewhere, but they all feel like nightmares."

He gazed at his hands then, and saw the feathery down. His nails were pointed and elongated, and when he ran a hand through his hair, it didn't feel at all like hair. He was quite sure his face didn't look strange, though, but he couldn't see his wide round dark eyes reflected in the glass. 

"What happened to me?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"You're a shapeshifter? You do remember that, don't you? You can transform into a sparrow. That's why you've got feathers on you, I think?"

He gazed down at his body, trying to see what he was talking about. But it didn't make enough sense, nor could he find any memories that he trusted enough to validate what the man had said. 

-

He dreamt of flying. He was a bird, and he flew all over the place, letting nothing tie him down or confine him. Whatever else he felt, it was the most peaceful dream he'd had since he came to this room. 

-

He was nestled on the bed, next to the pillow, when he woke, and his vision confirmed he had become a bird. His body moved in different ways, but it didn't feel scary. He felt calm, and after shaking the sleep from him, he took off, and flew around the room, appreciating the joy it brought.

-

He was pretty sure he was human this time, without the unnecessary feathers. At least, he couldn't see any. Sunlight was just beginning to pour into the room, and a cold breeze slapped him hard. Gingerly getting to his feet, the sudden chill made him realise he was almost naked. Where his clothes had gone, he didn't know. 

He made his way over to the window and closed it, shutting out the chill, before going back to the bed to snuggle under the blankets, praying for warmth. 

-

They were lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling. The joint lay restlessly between his fingers. He wasn't sure it was the best idea in the world, but he was already mad, what else could pot do to him that his brain hadn't already done? He smiled as he watched the shimmering lights morph into galaxies and alien spaceships. 

"I forgot how mellow this shit makes me feel," he drawled, stretching out the vowels in 'mellow' until they sounded hilarious. 

"Reveals the truth, man, hits you right in your soul," his companion said. 

"Lights are pretty, though. Sky looks really good tonight," he said. He took a drag just before the ash burnt his skin, and passed it over, feeling warmth and happiness fill his chest. He felt genuinely exhausted for the first time in a long time. 

"Least you're not a bird, hey? Bird?" his companion couldn't help the joke, before collapsing into a fit of laughter. 

He lay there, smile on his face, almost sure he knew what he meant. Just thinking of being a bird made his body feel strange, and as his mind entertained the suggestion, he could feel his skin tighten, and he was sure he saw white feathers sprouting from his hands. 

He felt his companion move close to him, and wrap an arm around his chest as he pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

Suddenly, the world went dark, and he found himself unable to breathe. The voice of his companion was drowned out by the crushing pain flooding his body, and he could do nothing as he transformed, horrifyingly aware of what was happening to his body. 

He felt the bones shrink and change, he felt his chest tighten, the feathers sprouting painfully through his skin, the way his feet contorted into unrecognisable shapes, how his face turned into something horrifying. He'd never had a transformation like it before. 

His vision blurred, and had acquired a violet tint. His hearing was so sensitive he could hear the pot burning in the joint, and the way the carpet bristled with his movements. What he had become, he didn't really know, except that he was tied down, and his chest felt like it was about to be crushed. 

Something screamed in his head, and he wasn't sure it wasn't him. And then he was falling, the floor collapsing underneath him. When he landed, his wings were pinned to the ground with arrows. All he saw around him was grass on fire. Chains held him down, and the sky was burning, and his feathers melted away.

-

"The feathers are back."

"Fucking hell."

"Sorry, Charlie."

"You're going to kill him one day if you're not careful."

"But I love him."

"I know you do. That's what scares me."

x.  
At some point, the voices began to make sense, and he was sure he recognised them. He still wasn't entirely sure who he was, or what he even was, but his mind suggested the voices were safe and familiar, which meant he was probably somewhere safe, wherever that was. 

He had no idea how much time had passed. All he knew was this room. The door wasn't locked; he'd tried that early on, and found he could open it. But he wasn't ready to leave the room yet. Sometimes, at night, he would open it a crack, and peer out, just to see if he recognised anything. But the mere thought he might let in something bad stopped him looking for more than a second before he slammed it shut again and went to hide in the corner. 

Nightmares passed the time, suggesting what might have happened. His arms hurt for reasons that escaped him, and he couldn't explain the scars and wounds he thought he'd acquired. There were nightmares of being electrocuted, of being snatched out of the sky by eagles, of freezing to death in the river, of being held and hunted and tortured and captured, and he had no idea how much of it was true. All he knew was that he was somewhere else, somewhere safe, and his mind was still trying to decipher what had happened to him. None of it made sense.

He heard music one night. The sound of gentle guitar chords drifted in to greet him; for once, he didn't feel afraid. The voices had dimmed considerably, though he still felt feathers all over his skin. Unable to resist the lure of the music, he opened the door, and crept out into the hallway. 

He pinpointed the source of the music immediately, and headed downstairs to the front room. Peering around the door frame, he saw a man he recognised, sitting on the couch, strumming gently into the night air. He turned to look at him, and smiled, inviting him to join him. 

"Ace, hey. How're you doing? I didn't wake you or anything, did I? Got a song in my head I needed to get out, that's all."

"Roy. Hey. Uhm. I was awake, anyway, I think? What are you doing here?" Ace said, taking a step into the room.

"Oh, yeah, do you even remember how you got here or what happened to you? Charlie said he heard you, that you were in trouble, and he found you lying in a field. He brought you back here. That was about two weeks ago, I think. You are alright, aren't you?" Roy said.

Ace thought a moment. "Dunno. 'm not sure about anything. Jus' - I heard the music, and maybe it was safe, y'know?" 

Roy didn't speak as Ace padded in and took a tentative seat beside him on the couch. Ace stared at the wall, a thousand thoughts crashing in his mind. None of them made any sense. 

"Trev said moonlight makes you drunk, yeah? It does that to me too," Roy said after a while, breaking the silence.

It took a moment for his words to register. Ace turned to look at him. Roy couldn't decipher the look on his face. 

"Y-y'mean, it - it's not just me 'ead? It really does make me drunk?" Ace said.

"Yeah, it does. Where do you think I get all my ideas from? Moon's nearly full too. You wanna go outside and see? Only you look like you could do with a bit of a lunar boost. I haven't seen you look this wrecked before," Roy said. 

Ace absently scratched the back of his head. That was probably true, whatever else had happened. "Yeah, alright, let's go see the moon, hey?" 

Roy smiled, took his hand, and led him gently outside into the back yard. It was larger than Ace was expecting, but he wasn't really sure why. But the sky was clear, for once, and there she was, the swelling orb of the moon, shining down on them. 

Ace felt it immediately, and grinned up at the heavens, eyes closed, as he pulled all that energy into his body. In spite of the chill, he shed his jacket, letting as much skin as possible be drenched in the moonlight. 

Roy did the same, not that Ace noticed. All Ace was aware of was the bright white moonlight flooding his brain, washing away all the confusion and trauma. That's what it felt like, anyway. The energy building inside him felt incredible, and a burst of magical leaves spontaneously erupted from his palms, making glittering confetti that shimmered down onto them. 

When Ace opened his eyes, he saw with bright clarity. The memories of the past few weeks were slowly coming back, but there was no attachment to them. They were just things that had happened. The weakness in his body disappeared, and he finally felt as close to himself as possible for the first time in a long time. He gazed down at his hands, watching them glow with white light and sparkling leaves. 

"We really have these powers, don't we? This isn't just the acid?" Ace said.

Roy unleashed a bolt of thunder into the sky, watching it branch and spark and roar across the heavens. The look of sheer joy on his face was utterly contagious, and Ace grinned back, letting loose some magical leaves.

"They might call us freaks, but this is the best feeling in the world. Drunk on moonlight, and charged with electricity. God, I've never felt this good before," Roy said.

Ace felt the pangs of transformation in his body, then, but this time, he wasn't afraid. "Y'wanna see sparrow, Roy? Can feel that shapeshifting energy returning at last." 

Roy nodded enthusiastically, and Ace felt in control this time. He closed his eyes, and summoned the transformation. He gave in, and there was no pain. He let go, and flew around Roy's head, trilling into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Typings: Flying/Grass/Ground (Trevor); Shapeshifting/Fairy/Grass/Dark (Ace); Psychic/Fire/Fighting (Carl); Fairy, Steel, Electric, Psychic (Roy)
> 
> Mutant Powers/Abilities: Flight, Leaf Storm (Trevor); Shapeshifting, Moonlight, Magical Leaf (Ace); Telepathy, Ember, Sky Uppercut (Carl); Moonlight, Thunder, Psychic (Roy)
> 
> Check bulbapedia if you want to know specifics. Except shapeshifting. That's its own thing that I added in. And Flight is Fly because idk it sounds better.


End file.
